


Other Vengeance chapter two: A Question of Identity

by WaywardInsecticon



Series: Other Vengeance [2]
Category: Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Animal Death, Faction Truce, Gen, Transformers as Humans, we handed out sexes by beast-mode in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15168629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardInsecticon/pseuds/WaywardInsecticon
Summary: A few hours after 'Immediate Survival'.  Searching for crashed pods, Rattrap and Inferno find a pair of amnesiac Maximals.  Back at the Axalon, the Maximals bend their efforts towards practical issues of survival while the Predacons focus on healing.





	1. Chapter 1

His mind was full of static. Words and ideas flickered through his consciousness, rendered meaningless by a lack of context. He had a sensation of _self_ and of _body_ , and wasn't quite sure what to make of either.

There was light blazing down from above and the sky was blue. He reached out and touched it. It was smooth and cool and slightly concave. Around him was metal. He held his hands up, inspecting them. There were only two, and their shape was within the parameters that he thought of as 'hand'. _As different from what?_ he wondered, but the only answer was static.

He was lying on something soft. Putting his hands down, he could feel the softness against his palms and partway up his arms; and while the rest of his arms could feel the soft, they couldn't feel the fluttery, tickly texture of it.

Then he stopped wondering about it because there was an explosive hiss and the sky moved because it wasn't the sky - he was lying in a large container. There was still light and the sky was still blue, and he realised that he had been looking through some kind of transparency.

He cautiously sat up - the softness came with him, it was fastened to him somehow, little banners of gold-edged brown all tied together and hanging down his back - and found he could see over the side of the container. Everything was dry, dry, hot and brown and dry as far as his sight could reach. Twisted forms jutted up from the ground, casting areas of shadow. Nearby was another metal container, twin to his own, open. He ran his hands over the rim of his container - _no, not container - pod. Stasis pod,_ \- curious as to why he found comfort in the unyielding metal.

"Heh. Finally."

The sound - the _voice_ \- startled him, and he cast about, searching for its source. He found his own voice, and words: "Who is there? Who are you?" The words were ... automatic? Expected? Tradition?

A figure detached itself from the shadow of a twisted structure-growth and the world was divided into Self and Other. The other flicked a lock of blond hair out of his eyes. "Couldn't tell you, partner."

"You do not know who you are, either?"

"Didn't I say that?"

He looked at the other, searching vainly for a trace of familiarity. "Did you come out of that stasis pod?" he asked, pointing.

The other glanced back. "Yeah. Not long ago. Few cycles, I reckon. Saw you in the other and was waitin' for you to wake up."

They were both from the pods. It didn't matter that he didn't recognise the other - they were kin or colleagues or otherwise belonging together. The other had even called him 'partner.' He swung himself over the rim of his stasis pod and landed on the dusty ground, putting abrupt pressure on his feet. His body balanced itself, smoothly and automatically, and he was pleased. Unfamiliar as his body was, it seemed to be a good one.

He shifted his attention outward. "It cannot be right that we do not know who we are or why we are here. Something must have gone wrong. I think we should try to create a signal."

The other made a derisive noise. "How?"

"Well ..." He looked at the pods. They were broken - smashed and crumpled and, as he watched, the lights in them faded. He knew that he wouldn't be able to repair them. "Perhaps they signalled before they shut off completely."

"Y'know what I think?"

The other was looking at him carefully, sizing him up. "What?"

The other grinned. "I think I could take you."

He blinked. "You could _what_?"

"I bet I could beat you in a fight! Let's go!"

 

**Other Vengeance 2.0  
A Question of Identity  
( part one )**  
 

"Why won't you let me tell them?" asked Blackarachnia irritably. "They want you awake. They'll help me find a way to get you back into your body."

_Heh, you're so cute,_ said Tarantulas. _They don't need me back in my body if I'm wearing yours, and it's one less Predacon to deal with._

"They're _Maximals_ ," sighed Blackarachnia. "They don't do that."

_So I'm cynical. And if not Maximals, Megatron._

Blackarachnia decided that she had taken the worst of things in the last eight megacycles. Everyone was trapped in flesh-forms, sure, but Blackarachnia was the only one with a passenger in her head. _And that's what you get for trying to steal my research,_ said Tarantulas, whose physical body was lying unconscious on the table in the Maximals' xenobiology lab.

They were alone, which still surprised Blackarachnia when the thought occurred to her. She had been left alone, unsupervised, in one of the _Axalon's_ laboratories. If she were a Maximal, _she_ certainly wouldn't be so trusting, especially not of someone like her. There was a security camera at least, but she could sabotage that in seconds if she felt like it. And, yes, the Maximals were all busy trying to figure out how to keep these flesh-forms functioning, but it annoyed Blackarachnia that she was classed as non-dangerous enough to ignore.

She took it out on Tarantulas. "If you hadn't put that weird booby-trap into your file transfer gear, we wouldn't have this problem!"

_You know I put traps in everything, said Tarantulas. Anyway, I only downloaded my mind into your pretty little head, not my spark. The transfer procedure to put me back in my own body should be easy enough ... Er ..._

It _should_ be an easy procedure ... and _would_ be for a couple of robots. "Our thoughts are still just electrical impulses, right?"

Tarantulas hummed a bit. _Seem to be. So_ maybe _we could alter the file transfer equipment so that it works with these bodies. It_ will _be a delicate job, though. I doubt these forms can take much current._

Blackarachnia set her jaw and glared at the form on the table. "I don't mind dying if I get to take you with me."

_You're so sweet. Now be a dear and let's go see if the transfer equipment is still lying where you dropped it._

 

* * *

 

They'd checked the readings, double-checked their scanners, and came to one conclusion - they couldn't detect the stasis pods in orbit because the alien energy wave had knocked them all down. That had set the Maximals on a scramble to cut through the leftover radiation and the usual energon interference to try to locate any tracking beacons on the ground.

Their scanners couldn't reach very far, but they did detect a pod about ten kilometres away. Rhinox had set off with Dinobot and Tigatron in tow to retrieve it. Optimus, Rattrap, and Airazor kept working on increasing the range of the scanners.

The alarm went off, and a screech: "Are the aliens attacking again?"

Optimus shut off the alarm and looked back into a face he usually only saw framed by shoulder-cannons. Terrorsaur stood just inside the open door to the control room, startled by the sudden noise and looking ready to bolt.

"We got two more pods," Rattrap announced. "They're practically on top of each other. Looks like Pred territory."

"Rattrap, Airazor, get a fix on their position," said Optimus. He made a decision, then crossed the room to the Predacon. "Terrorsaur, come with me."

"I didn't even _do_ anything," the air warrior protested, but followed him deeper into the ship.

_'Be strong with them,' Dinobot had said. 'Show weakness and they will rip you apart.'_ He and Dinobot had differing ideas on what constituted as 'strong'. He decided to use his own definitions and just be as himself as possible. Besides, Terrorsaur didn't look like he could fight anything right now.

The Predacon seemed more alert than he had eight megacycles ago and had regained some life to his movements instead of just shuffling along, but he managed to look worse. The burns on his face were no longer reddish and wet-looking, but sort of puffed and yellowish. _Is that supposed to happen? Is this part of the organic healing process or is it an indication of some worse problem?_ After a moment, Optimus realised why Terrorsaur looked particularly scraggly - his hair had lost its bright tint and was plastered thickly down his back because it was dripping wet. His clothing was damp, though not soaked except where his hair lay on it, and the lava stench was gone. "You found the showers, I take it."

The Predacon made a sound halfway between a derisive snort and a laugh. "I had them pointed out to me. Where are you taking me?"

"Xenobotany lab. We've got -"

There was a sudden shriek, baffled and muted by walls and corridors. Optimus was about to break into a run when Terrorsaur stopped him. "Don't bother. It's just Waspinator."

Optimus stared at him. "She's your partner!"

"That was an indignant scream, not a scared scream," said Terrorsaur. "That probably means Inferno grabbed her."

"Why would Inferno ..."

"Inferno's got a thing about cleaning. I don't know if it's an ant thing or just the way she is. I got two steps down the hall before I was grabbed and marched to the showers. 'Remove your outer covering or I will remove it for you' is _not_ something I'd ever expected to hear outside a party ... Mph. Where did she get new clothes for us from?" The last sentence was said quickly, slightly louder, as if trying to erase the one that came before.

"She asked to use the fabricator. I let her."

"You what?" Terrorsaur blinked at him. "Pit, you're serious about this truce thing."

"I am." They reached the xenobotany lab and went inside. It was a bit unusual to have a distinction between xenobiology and xenobotany, but both he and Rhinox liked plants so space was made. "I figure you could probably use a refuelling."

Dead silence, and Optimus realised that the Predacon hadn't heard an offer, but a threat. _Well, maybe a Predacon sees an opportunity for interrogation, but I don't._ There were two loader drone drums sitting next to the table. Optimus reached into the uncovered one and tossed the Predacon one of the yellowish fruits from the day before.

Terrorsaur caught it and frowned. "Plants?"

"These forms are omnivorous," said Optimus. "We know that type is safe. I'm trying to determine what else is."

Fuel in hand, Terrorsaur seemed to relax a bit. "Are any of the other Predacons up yet?"

"Blackarachnia is. Tarantulas is still unconscious. Scorponok demanded several sheets of packing foam and vanished again. Megatron's still sleeping as far as I know."

Terrorsaur sniffed at the fruit and made a face. Optimus shrugged. "Our sense of taste has been enhanced. Greatly. Just so you're not surprised."

"I think I can handle flavour," said the Predacon haughtily, but took a small, cautious bite. He swallowed, then winced.

Optimus bit back the automatic, _I warned you._ Terrorsaur hadn't reacted to the flavour, but to the act of swallowing. _Right. The Predacons who were at their base inhaled superheated air and have burns in their throats. Blast._ "Wait a minute." He found a medium-sized beaker, opened the covered container, then dipped the beaker into it to fill with water before handing it to the air warrior. "Drink this first."

Terrorsaur sighed and set the fruit on the desk to take the beaker in both hands. "I suppose you'll be in trouble if I wind up dead." Still wary after the pain caused by swallowing something solid, he took a very small sip of the water. He finished the rest quickly, wavered for a second between pride and need, then gave Optimus a 'just _try_ to stop me, Maximal' glare and refilled the beaker for himself.

_'Set them tasks as soon as possible,' Dinobot had said. 'They will be angry that you presume to give them orders, but tell them to just sit around while the Maximals do everything and they will hate you. Predacons will steal or earn, but they do not accept gifts.'_ Terrorsaur was treacherous, but not particularly bright. Either Optimus or Rattrap could handle him. "Are you up to going on a mission? We need to collect those two stasis pods we detected."

"I know all those words, but they make no sense in that order." Terrorsaur arched an eyebrow. "You just asked _me_ to go recover a couple of stasis pods, after spending a year chasing me away from them."

"Look, you wouldn't be going alone, we're currently in a truce, I'm getting short-staffed, and I'm willing to bet that you don't know how to reprogram a protoform even if you had a modifier chip on you," said Optimus. "Can you do it or not?"

The air warrior shook his head. "I'm feeling better, but not that much better. I got up for information and fuel, and now I want to go back into recharge. Whatever self-repair systems we've got now are lousy." He got up, then paused. "I ... don't suppose there'd be a mirror anywhere on this ship?"

There were reflective panels for radar dishes and other purposes down in the cargo bay, so he led the Predacon there and gave him one of the small one of thirty by fifty centimetres. Terrorsaur spent a long moment regarding his reflection before he closed his eyes, and Optimus wished he'd looked away. The Predacon didn't look disgusted or angry - for a second his expression was one of such open and total loss that Optimus felt like he was intruding just to have seen it.

He felt he had to say something. "You'll heal."

"It doesn't matter." Terrorsaur opened his eyes again, but didn't look at Optimus. "I'm ... I'm going to go back into recharge. I know the way." He took the mirror with him.

Overall, the exchange had gone better than Optimus had expected, but it still left him with a problem. He was telling the truth about being short-staffed - Cheetor had left a megacycle ago, off doing fieldwork and collecting plant samples for Optimus. There was no telling when he would return. Rhinox, Dinobot, and Tigatron would only be halfway to the first pod by now, and even then, Dinobot and Tigatron planned to go hunting afterwards. That left just himself, Rattrap, and Airazor, and while he didn't want to send anyone chasing pods alone, neither did he want to leave anyone alone in a base full of Predacons.

Which meant the only other option was to send a Predacon.

If Terrorsaur was still in rough condition, it meant that Megatron, Waspinator, and Scorponok weren't going to be up to much activity, either. That left Blackarachnia, who refused to leave Tarantulas' side, and ...

_Inferno. Well, why not? She's been cooperative so far._ And, because he was honest, added, _Because Megatron ordered her to be cooperative._

He knew where she was last, anyway. Optimus went up to find the showers.

The showers were off, the pipes were silent, but there were still muffled voices through the door: _"No, Waspinator does_ not _know how clothing goes back on. Ant-bot_ took _Waspinator's outer coverings. Waspinator did not get to find out for herself how clothing works!"_

_"Minor! Useless little insect!"_

_"Hnh! If ant-bot so smart, ant-bot can put Waspinator back together again."_

Optimus opened the door. The room was still wet, and the two Predacons were near the centre of it. The height difference wasn't quite as extreme as it had been when they were robots, but Inferno still could have used Waspinator as a chinrest. The scout's clothing was a green and yellow bundle in Inferno's arms - Waspinator was clad only in water and indignation. She had wide, dark brown stripes on her legs, mimicking the ones she had as a wasp robot. Her back was to him and she seemed to be in better condition than Terrorsaur had been, but it might have just been anger lending her energy and the fact that he couldn't see her burns from where he stood.

"Ant-bot _grabs_ poor Waspinator, _drags_ her down the hall, takes her _apart_ , tries to _drown_ ..."

"Silence!" Inferno glared over Waspinator's head at him. "What do you want, Maximal?"

"I don't suppose you two need any help?"

Waspinator snatched the bundle of synth-fabric away from Inferno. "Bah. Maximals never helped Waspinator before. Probably end up in even _more_ pieces ..." With that, she stomped out, muttering to herself.

Inferno huffed, started to march out, and stopped short of walking into Optimus, who had stepped into the doorway. "Move."

He stepped aside. "I've got a job for you. It's a big one, though."

The Predacon warrior froze, visibly caught between _How dare this_ Maximal _order_ me _? and Megatron ordered me to make myself useful._ "What is it?"

"Stasis pod retrieval."

Inferno's expression relaxed somewhat and she stepped past the Maximal. "Impossible. I must remain near the Royalty."

_Time to appeal to a higher court._ "I'll ask him what he thinks, then," said Optimus, and started towards Megatron's room.

As expected, Inferno followed him. Once there, Optimus tapped the door chime, and when there was no answer for a long moment, he felt a brief panic - _Did Megatron slip out without us noticing? He could be up to anything!_ \- but the door opened and Megatron glared down at him.

Megatron hadn't had a chance to get cleaned up, and didn't seem to be quite up to it yet. He leaned heavily on the doorframe. "This had better be important on the level of 'the aliens are sitting on the roof,' Primal," he rasped. Hearing the damage to their throats hadn't been as noticeable in the other two - Terrorsaur always had a scraping voice and Waspinator still had her burble though she'd lost her croon - but from the normally smooth-voiced Megatron, the difference was striking.

"I need to put together a stasis pod retrieval team," said the Maximal. "I hoped to borrow Inferno."

He glanced over at Inferno, then back down to Optimus. "But, Optimus, if I'm unwell and you're insane, who will lead?"

_He can't shoot me, but he can still snark me. Great._ "Just yes or no and you can go back to sleep."

"Fine." Megatron sighed, then: "Inferno!"

Inferno snapped to attention. "Yes, Royalty?"

"You will assist the Maximals in the retrieval of their stasis pod."

"But, Royalty, I must remain here so I may tend to you."

"Inferno, I've got the others here. Retrieving the pod is important. You will go."

She hesitated for a second, then saluted as if to make up for not immediately acquiescing. "Yes, Royalty."

Which seemed to settle it. Inferno followed Optimus up to the control room, where Airazor was reading a map on a screen and Rattrap was tinkering with another console. He looked over when he heard the door open, then set down his tools and ambled over to Optimus. "What's up?"

"I found a partner for the pod retrieval mission."

Rattrap looked past Optimus at the Predacon warrior hanging back by the door. "Not her."

"Her." He looked back. "Inferno, could you check over the maps with Airazor? The pods are in Predacon territory and we don't know the area that well." Inferno nodded curtly and went across the room to go loom over Airazor. "Rattrap?"

"Yeah?"

"If I was at a party and I was ordered to remove my outer armour," said Optimus, "what kind of party would I be at?"

Rattrap blinked at him. "Ordered like it's your job or ordered like forced against your will?"

"Forced, I think."

"Parts party, then. It's kind of like a slating, but less extreme." When Optimus still looked confused, Rattrap continued. "Slating you get taken apart completely and rebuilt. Parts party you just get your outer plating ripped off and remoulded. They started doing it when slating was declared illegal after the Great War."

"'They' who?"

"Sculptors and shell designers, mostly. It's like a party game for sociopathic artists. Why?"

Optimus shook his head. "Just something I heard once. I'll go retrieve the pods if you don't want to."

"No, no, you gotta stay here. Remind the Preds who's in charge of the ship. Which means I've just been set up with Megatron's favourite weapon!" Rattrap sighed. "How long have you hated me?"

"You seemed to be getting along with her earlier."

"'Angled into doin' my heavy lifting' ain't the same as 'getting along'."

The Maximal leader glanced up, assuring himself that Airazor and Inferno were absorbed in their maps, and dropped his voice. "If possible, I want new stasis pods to be checked by you, me, or Rhinox, and I want us to have back-up. You know why."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be glad of havin' the firebug behind me if it comes to that," Rattrap admitted. "Why can't I wait for Rhinox or Cheetor to get back?"

"If the protoforms were changed like us, they'll need help as soon as possible, and I don't know when the others will return. If the protoforms can be safely left in stasis, leave them."

"Gotcha," said Rattrap. "I'll go put back the bits I took outta the Preds' hoversled."

Optimus blinked. "Why did you do that?"

"So's they couldn't sneak off with it." Rattrap went and vanished down the lift.

_Such a trusting group we are,_ thought Optimus, but couldn't really blame Rattrap for his caution. Which brought him to his next problem: _I never, ever thought I'd be doing this, but we don't know if the change affected the unopened pods and I might be sending Rattrap into terrible danger just to go look at them ... By the Matrix, I have to arm_ Inferno _._

Optimus considered the Predacon warrior. Treachery was unlikely - Megatron had emphasised that the pods were to be brought back for the Maximals, so Inferno would bring back the pods for the Maximals. Rattrap would be in no danger, at least not from Inferno. He pulled down the weapons rack with difficulty, selected a laser rifle, and called her over. Like most of them, Inferno's weapon had been part of her body, and it simply vanished in the change.

Inferno inspected the gun, then handed it back. "If you wish me to be my most effective, you will allow me the weapon I am most proficient with."

"We haven't got one. Besides, it's too dangerous."

"It is a _flamethrower_. That is the _point_."

In the end, he let her take a heat-beam cannon as a compromise - it was tidier than a flamethrower and less likely to set the landscape on fire. She eyed the weapon with distaste - it was a mid-sized gun, which meant it was almost too large for her current body, but was far smaller than the weapon she was used to. "It will have to do."

"Good. Come on. You and Rattrap will be gone for at least four megacycles, so you'll probably need some supplies ..."

 

* * *

 

He'd found a mirror. Waspinator was entirely unsurprised.

He'd propped it up on a shelf. Terrorsaur didn't turn around when the door opened, so either he was ignoring her or just hypnotised by his own face. Waspinator announced: "Waspinator is broken again!"

Terrorsaur glanced up to see her in the reflection. "Is the door chime not working?"

"Don't know. Waspinator didn't try it."

He finally turned around. "You've still got all your limbs. What're you complaining about?"

The scout held out the bundle of fabric. "Inferno took Waspinator apart. Waspinator not sure how to get back together again."

"You idiot. You struggled instead of just going along with Inferno, didn't you?" asked Terrorsaur. "Anyway, you might not want to put it back on until you've dried off. The stuff clings and rubs when it's wet."

"Waspinator _already_ missing bits," said Waspinator, feeling her back twitch trying to buzz wings that weren't there. "Waspinator wants to be as complete as possible."

Terrorsaur shrugged. "Your choice. Come here." Terrorsaur was used to putting Waspinator's pieces back together. Clothing was just a variation of a theme and Waspinator was pulled together in less than a minute. "You think you can do that for yourself next time?"

"Maybe," Waspinator admitted, straightening her long coat. She considered her gloves for a moment, then took them off and stuffed them into a pocket. "What's terror-bot up to?"

"Terror-bot is having horrible thoughts of what his creator would say if he could see what kind of body terror-bot had landed himself in now," said Terrorsaur, who was back at his mirror. "Optimus says the damages will heal, but ... it won't be my face any more."

He wanted sympathy and someone to mope at and the reassurance that he was pretty. Waspinator made a rude noise at him. "Terror-bot still recognisable. Terror-bot want to talk about having wrong face, terror-bot can tell Waspinator where her mandibles are!"

"Pfeh. Big loss on you!"

"Waspinator was very handsome mech!"

" _Waspinator has ..._ " Terrorsaur's shout was cut off by coughing. He rubbed at his throat and lowered his voice. "Waspinator has low standards." His jacket was lying on the berth and the red and gray shirt he wore left him bare to the shoulders. Terrorsaur scowled at his hands. "I look like something you'd find under a rock."

Leave it to Terrorsaur to turn the conversation back to himself. "Terror-bot looks like the rest of us," said Waspinator.

He looked up again. "Think colours, Waspy. Scorponok and Airazor are pretty light, but I'm so pale I'm see-through. It's revolting. I look like some kind of meat-based Customiser. You're lucky - you're dark enough to look solid."

Waspinator walked over and inspected him with a critical gaze, then laughed. Laughing hurt her throat, but she didn't let that stop her. "Terror-bot is all speckly!"

"What?"

"Terror-bot has speckles like he used to have, only speckles are tiny now," said Waspinator, taking Terrorsaur by the shoulder and turning him a bit, pointing out in the mirror how his freckles ran partway down his arms. "So terror-bot is not _all_ pale."

"Speckles don't count." He held up his hands, backs to her. "Look at this," Terrorsaur demanded. "You can see the ... what are these? Fuel conduits? Coolant lines? You can see them right through the skin. And skin is supposed to be what's keeping everything _inside_ me? By the Pit, how can anything _live_ like this?"

Waspinator shrugged. "Dunno. Critters seem to."

"Critters open right up and spill out with the slightest scratch. Critters pop and splatter when dropped. Critters are flimsy bags of liquid. I thought these coverings were stupid this morning. Now I'm glad we have them. Anything is an improvement over skin." He grabbed his jacket and pulled it back on, then stopped suddenly. "You fuelled yet?"

"No."

"You'd forget your own name if I didn't tell you what it was. C'mon, Waspinator."

 


	2. Chapter 2

They were the best hunter-trackers of the Maximals. It didn't mean they were a good team. Now they had completely opposite views on the change they had gone through.

A loader drone followed them at a short distance, still within sight - Dinobot trusted that it would follow the control he carried in his pocket, but not that it wouldn't get stuck in the undergrowth of the jungle. Dinobot had a new sword, weighted and balanced for his new form. It no longer rotated, but it made him feel almost complete. He also had a small laser - too small to fight a Transformer, but more than sufficient to take down organic prey. It was a bit cheating, but he couldn't be certain of his physical limits in his new body. Also, it made up for Tigatron.

Tigatron carried no equipment. She was also naked except for the band that tied her hair back. It made her look odd - the uniform colour said 'beast-mode' but the overall shape said 'robot-mode'. _And why,_ Dinobot wondered idly, _is that uniform colour brown?_ Tigatron was a shade or two lighter than himself with darker brown stripes across her back and arms, but he would have thought that white with black stripes would have made more sense. _Bah. This whole situation is ridiculous._

They had been arguing the point of equipment off and on for the last half hour. "Other animals have teeth and claws," Dinobot said. "The advantages of this species seem to be a proportionally large brain and high manual dexterity. We are _meant_ to be tool-users."

"We are a part of this world now," countered Tigatron, snapping a branch at him. "We must learn to live as the native species live."

"The aliens could have destroyed our equipment as easily as they changed us. They even gave us equipment we never had before - clothing. There is no _must_." He shook his head. "Tigatron, you are strong. You are a skilled warrior. I know that you are a better tracker than I, and that you are in your element. But I do not think you can kill with your bare hands. The spark is willing, but the metal ... is merely flesh. You are not strong _enough_."

Tigatron didn't answer him. Dinobot decided it had been a rather strange day for weapons. Rhinox had been far more heavily armed than they were, and all he was doing was retrieving a stasis pod. Optimus had even urged Dinobot and Tigatron to carry larger weapons, but the warriors had baulked - they didn't want to weigh themselves down with unnecessary equipment.

_Perhaps it was nothing more than habit,_ thought Dinobot. _They've grown so used to the Predacons attacking that they cannot quite believe that, at least for a little while, the Predacons are out of the equation. That might also be why Rhinox seemed relieved when we reached the pod without incident. He relaxed as soon as he saw it._

"This form suits you."

Dinobot blinked, startled out of his thoughts, then glared when he realised Tigatron had been watching him. "What?"

The tracker shrugged. "You always seemed more comfortable as a velociraptor than as a robot."

"I wouldn't have minded so much if I was trapped in the form of a velociraptor," said Dinobot. He swatted at some biting insect that landed on his arm. Either they were leaving Tigatron alone or she was ignoring them, but the bugs were driving him crazy. "At least then I wouldn't be _soft_."

"You prefer teeth and claws to manual dexterity?"

" _What_ manual dexterity? How does anyone _function_ with only two thumbs?" Dinobot bared his teeth. " _You_ would prefer teeth and claws."

"True," Tigatron admitted. "If given a choice, I would have been a tiger, but I do not see these current forms as inferior. Merely different." She flexed a hand idly, looking at it as if she'd never seen it before. "Something is worrying me, though."

"Only _one_ thing?"

Tigatron ignored the remark. "Perhaps it will help to talk it through with someone. Even you recognised that these bodies are quite complex - the dexterous hands, the proportionally large brains. Tool users."

"Yes."

"But we all look quite different."

Dinobot blinked at her. "We all look practically the same. If we all decided to remove our clothing, we would never be able to tell each other apart. Perhaps if we still had energy signatures ..."

"Why do we even _have_ clothing?" demanded Tigatron, then shook her head. "I'll return to that. But back to identification of individuals - not in Cybertronian terms. Compared to the other animals you've seen."

Dinobot considered that. While the differences between them weren't as great as they had been as robots, his complaints that they all looked the same were exaggeration. They still had different sizes and builds - compare Rattrap's small wiriness with Megatron's looming bulk. Even ignoring clothes, there was still a range of colours, from Terrorsaur's barely-tinted skin and red hair to, again, Megatron, whose skin was only a few shades lighter than his black hair. Whereas animals ... All cheetahs may as well be one cheetah, all rats, all ants, all gorillas, all wasps, all anything. There were likely individual differences, but nothing he would be able to tell without a detailed examination. "Granted. Continue."

"Whatever species we are, we're adapted for this planet, but not all to this specific biome," said Tigatron. "Otherwise we _would_ all look the same, or closer to. Instead, we're adapted to different climates. Whatever species we are, it's _global_. It took its tool-using self and spread all over the planet, and it did it long enough ago that there were local adaptations. And clothing - it must be something to do with the species we are now. We never had any before, so it can't have come from us."

"I can follow that," said Dinobot slowly, "but I fail to see why you find it worrisome."

"Don't you understand, Dinobot? _Where are they?_ "

Silence again, as Dinobot had no answer and Tigatron had picked up a trail. He stopped the loader drone so that it wouldn't frighten off whatever Tigatron had found. He had no worry that they wouldn't be able to find it again. The trail led them to a small stream, and Tigatron signalled that they should wait. While perfectly capable of waiting, Dinobot preferred not to do it, particularly not with biting insects to contend with. _Honour, I could understand. If Tigatron thought that weapons gave us an unfair advantage and refused them, I could appreciate that motive. If this turns out too easy, I might consider leaving them behind next time myself. But I feel disgustingly weak in this body and believe that our current priorities are caution and success. Why is Tigatron making things difficult for herself?_

_Does she really want to be an animal_ that _badly?_

As of yet, Tigatron's eccentricities hadn't hurt her. Dinobot decided to let her worry about herself and cast his thoughts to matters he knew were dangerous. _When we return to the_ Axalon _, will it welcome us, or will Megatron have taken it over? Just because he is injured does not mean he can be underestimated, and he will be_ angry _when he awakens. If Optimus follows my advice on how to treat Predacons, he might stay their wrath for a while. Long enough for me to return, at least._

_Sigh. He's probably giving teamwork speeches at this moment. I should never have left ..._

Tigatron didn't move, her breathing didn't change, but Dinobot sensed her sudden tension. He tried to see what had caught her attention. After a moment, he saw it - a small, brown antelope with a white crest down its back had stopped to drink. He briefly cursed his eyesight - he should have seen it immediately, but his new eyes were too easily tricked and the creature's hide had seemed to be merely more patches of shifting light and shadow. The antelope glanced around nervously, as if it sensed they were there, then after a moment bent its head to the water.

The antelope was about Tigatron's mass, but the tracker managed to bring it down.

Yesterday, that would have ended it. Tigatron's full weight driving the creature to the ground would stun it, and because Tigatron didn't like animals to suffer, a single, strong bite would sever the spinal cord and kill it instantly. This time she managed to knock it to the ground and keep it down, but it thrashed and screamed and fought. It couldn't get into a position to stab her with its twisted horns, but it did get a few kicks in.

She used her weight to keep the antelope on its side, unable to get its feet under itself and buck her off. Then Tigatron caught it by the horns and twisted sharply.

Dinobot waited until it was plain that Tigatron lacked the strength to break its neck, then helped her restrain the animal so he could dispatch it with a laser blast to the base of its skull.

The antelope stopped struggling. "Next time I will choose smaller prey," muttered Tigatron.

Dinobot holstered the gun. "Next time you will carry a weapon."

 

* * *

 

He stopped, bent, and scratched another arrow into the dirt with a shard of metal he had picked up from the crash site, as he did every hundred steps. The other never waited for him, but the other's legs were shorter than his, so he was able to catch up easily. "We should have waited by the stasis pods."

"I ain't waitin' to be rescued. I got my pride," growled the other. "'Sides, we _know_ somethin' went wrong, otherwise we wouldn't be out here. Maybe there's nobody else."

"Well, what are we looking for?"

The other rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping away the dampness and dust. "I dunno. I'll know it when I see it. This," - he made a sweeping gesture to encompass the wasteland - "ain't it."

"Maybe there is nothing else."

"Gotta be somethin' else."

He stopped pursuing the argument. The other had to believe that, in the way he himself had to believe someone was out there looking for them. They brought up the argument every once in a while, though they were already living the compromise - they would walk and search for the other's 'something else', but they would leave a trail.

In a way, he was relieved. He had felt nervous around the pods. There had been a feeling of death in the air, though he couldn't understand why. They were just broken metal.

After a time, he scratched another arrow and caught up to the other again. "Why did you attack me?"

"What?"

He turned to frown at the other. "Back by the stasis pods. Why did you insist on fighting me?"

"Tarnation, you still on about that? Just wanted to see what you were made of is all."

"Why?"

Usually the conversation ended there. The other would just shake his head in a _why are you so dense?_ way and get back to the business of walking. This time, the other sighed. "'Cause I wanted to know which one of us was stronger. 'Cause I feel better knowing that if I gotta be stuck in the middle of nowhere that I got a partner tough enough to back me up."

"Oh." And, feeling how much it cost the other to admit that, "Thank you."

"Just walk."

 

* * *

 

Megatron found the room that Terrorsaur had claimed and pressed the chime. After a moment, the very dishevelled and somewhat damp air warrior opened the door and looked up at him. "So you're finally up. Why aren't you bothering Inferno or Scorponok or someone?"

"Inferno is out and I like Scorponok."

"Scrap. Watching Inferno drag you down to the showers would've been worth this whole mess."

"What's going on? Is Megatron giving orders?" Waspinator appeared behind Terrorsaur, yawning. "Waspinator doesn't feel like following them."

"I only need one of you," said Megatron.

Terrorsaur shrugged. "Might as well be me," he said, and Waspinator vanished back into the room. "It's not like I sleep well anyway. What do you want, Megatron?"

"Cybertron under my heel. Barring that, you mentioned something about bathing a moment ago."

"You _would_ have latched onto that. Yeah, Inferno convinced the Maximals to update their showers - something about the old cleaning chemicals being too caustic for these bodies," Terrorsaur explained. "They just use water now. And she got new clothes made. She couldn't figure out a way to get the lava stench out of the originals. I don't know where she left yours."

Come to think of it, there had been a pile of dark fabric on the end of the berth. "My room. She seems to believe it's also hers." Megatron chuckled. "Well, well. So it seems that Inferno has been leading the Predacons in my absence. I didn't know she had it in her."

Terrorsaur made a face at him. "I'll show you where the showers are. You can deal with that yourself."

He followed the air warrior. "What of fuel?"

"I'll show you after you've cleaned up."

They picked up Megatron's new clothes from his room and left them in the hall so they wouldn't get wet. Clothing turned out to be slightly more complicated than he had first thought. There were layers to it, such as when he removed his boots, his feet were still covered by fabric. When he had finally removed it all, Terrorsaur picked up the pile. "Where are you going with that?"

"Waste disposal," said Terrorsaur. "You'll never get the stench out."

"What if we need our original coverings for when we change back?"

The air warrior paused a moment. "I don't think it matters. It's not really a part of us."

Megatron frowned. "I would rather not take the chance. Drop those off outside my quarters." Terrorsaur shrugged awkwardly and left.

Megatron activated the shower and stood out of range. Already quite aware that his new body had poor resistance to temperature, he carefully put a hand under the spray instead of walking right into it. It wasn't as cold as Cybertronian showers usually were and the temperature was within his new tolerances, but it still promised to be an unpleasant experience. _But the choice seems to be tolerate a chill or to continue to feel sticky and smell of lava._ He stepped into it and found one positive - the cold water felt good against the burns on his face.

After a while, he decided he was probably as clean as he was going to get, and shut off the water. Apparently Terrorsaur had been hanging around outside and listening, because he entered seconds later with Megatron's new clothes. Megatron took the top item from the stack of fabric in Terrorsaur's arms and inspected it. "And how _are_ you doing?"

"Like you care."

He pulled his shirt over his head, wincing as the fabric brushed his face. "Scientific curiosity."

"Better than I was this morning," said Terrorsaur. "The burns on my face and in my throat still hurt badly, but not quite as much. My headache is mostly gone. Breathing still hurts, but it's not difficult. My body temperature feels about right, or at least it feels comfortable. I've fuelled, so that's not a problem. I'm thirsty again, though."

Megatron finished with his boots and straightened up again. "Hm. Progress is being made, if slowly. Anything else of interest to report?"

"Nothing if you don't count the fact that unless the others have come back, the only Maximals in the place are Optimus and Airazor."

_I swear that Primal is taunting me,_ thought Megatron irritably. _Here I am, walking free in the Axalon, along with nearly all the Predacons - and only two Maximals are on guard. And I have to_ pass it up _because I need the Maximals alive for now!_ He shrugged. "There will be better opportunities later, yes. Our first priority is to regain our strength."

 

* * *

 

Rhinox chuckled. "You know, these would have been useful early this afternoon." He picked up a canteen, filled it from the water drum, drained its contents, put it in the decontamination chamber for a few seconds to clean it, then came back and flopped down into the chair across from Optimus. "I wonder how Dinobot and Tigatron are holding up."

"I didn't even think of canteens until after you left," Optimus said apologetically. "At least Tigatron will know how to find clean water, if anyone can." He quickly sketched in what had been happening while Rhinox was out.

The engineer chuckled, shaking his head. "Rattrap and Inferno out on a mission together. I wonder if we'll ever get used to things like that."

"I don't see the truce lasting that long."

"You think we'll be able to get our robot bodies back that quickly?"

"Either that or the Predacons will get impatient."

Rhinox sighed. "It was a nice thought, anyway." Then, "What's all this?"

"Cheetor dropped them off before running out again," said Optimus, spreading his hands over the pile of greenery on the table. "The files we'd made don't have the kind of information we need now, so I have to update our records with new scans. What's the status of the stasis pod you checked?"

Rhinox shrugged. "It's one of the blanks. I just left it where it was. It should be safe enough."

Optimus' eyebrows lifted. "It's still just a regular protoform?"

"Yeah. So either the people in the pods were unaffected by the alien energy wave, or the aliens track us by our sparks." Blank protoforms didn't have any. "We won't know until we activate a pod."

The door opened, followed by a heavy sigh. "I suppose I couldn't get through the afternoon without encountering Maximals," said Megatron.

"We kind of live here," said Optimus. "Looking for something?"

Megatron stepped into the room, Terrorsaur in tow. "Terrorsaur told me I could refuel here."

"Yeah. Hang on." Optimus set about finding things for Megatron, and tried to think of him as someone who needed help and not the person who had been trying to kill him for the last year.

Megatron took the beaker in his left hand, and after a flicker of uncertainty, picked up the fruit with his right. Terrorsaur took one of the canteens, filled it, and left. Rhinox got up. "I'm going to see if Airazor wants a break from the monitors."

Megatron claimed the vacated chair and drank half his water slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. Then he settled back casually, idly tossing and catching the fruit in his right hand. It was such an obvious show of 'I'm not slave to my physical needs and I'm perfectly comfortable in the enemy camp' machismo that Optimus wondered if Megatron was teasing him or if he was in such bad condition that he believed he was being subtle. The Predacon smiled. "And how are _you_ , Primal?"

_I don't have to practice using a hand that used to be teeth,_ he thought. He said, "Busy. I want to go to your base and pick up some equipment. Not right now, obviously. Tomorrow morning."

Megatron fumbled, but had the presence of mind to just let the fruit fall in his lap instead of scrambling for it and dropping his water. He pretended he meant to do it and took a sip from the beaker. " _I_ don't."

It was because Megatron still felt too unwell to do much of anything, they both knew it, but Megatron would never admit it and Dinobot had warned Optimus not to point it out. Optimus said, "The sooner we can gather our resources, the sooner we can get to the real work of trying to restore our true forms."

"Unless you have some way to counter the heat inside, the base is off-limits," said Megatron.

"Look, I'm not much for dancing around a subject. The Disc's probably our best chance, Megatron."

"The truce," said Megatron, "only states that we may not fight. It says nothing of giving up hard-won artefacts to Maximals because they want them. I also don't see what good it will do here."

"I'm talking about the Alien Disc, not the one you stole on Cybertron."

The Predacon's expression didn't even flicker. "Mm, so you do know about that one. The answer is still no."

"Let me know when you change your mind."

 

* * *

 

"You are limping."

Tigatron didn't look back at Dinobot, merely growled quietly and continued leading the way. "Concern or gloating?"

"Observation." Dinobot frowned. The antelope's small hoof had torn a long but fortunately shallow gash in the tracker's lower leg. The wound had dripped for a bit, then filled with blood and seemed to stop for the most part. That injury could be the cause of Tigatron's limp, or it might have been nothing more than that her feet were bare and damaged by the ground.

They were almost out of the jungle when Tigatron suddenly stopped and grabbed his arm. "Don't argue! Climb!"

Tigatron's tone was urgent enough that Dinobot obeyed instantly, swinging up behind the tracker. After a moment, he heard what Tigatron's sharper senses had already detected: the sound of bodies running through the jungle, and a kind of odd barking.

There were six of them with the look of canines, each one his mass or more, croaking in an odd way that almost sounded like laughter. They swarmed around the loader drone, pulling the antelope carcass from its grasp and tearing at it with sharp teeth. Dinobot could recognise a poor tactical situation when he saw one. Tigatron nodded. "Hyenas. They were attracted by the scent of blood."

"That was _our_ kill. We should be ..."

"We will be no use to the others dead," said Tigatron. She shifted her weight, settling in to wait out the scavengers. "I should have foreseen this. I've grown too used to the native life avoiding us."

Dinobot glared down at the hyena pack. A couple of them jumped and snapped ineffectually, but soon gave up. These were heavily-built creatures, not suited to dealing with meat in trees. "The scent of the loader drone should have warned them off."

"They _can_ tell living metal from unliving," said Tigatron. "Nothing would ever come near enough a stasis pod to scan otherwise. The loader drone is only a clumsy, slow-moving _thing_ , and they recognise it as such. And we, I'm afraid, are just lightly-built primates."

He could hear the faint snarl in her voice - oh, yes, Tigatron could be patient and accept her situation, but she didn't have to like it. She wanted to be down there, fighting with the teeth and claws she didn't have, to claim her kill and defend her territory. "Lightly-built primates up a tree," grumbled Dinobot. "Perhaps Optimus could get back to the _Axalon_ like this." The trees were too far apart for him to even attempt it. He drew his gun. "Feh. I've no interest in waiting around for the scavengers to finish."

"Kill them and it will just attract more scavengers," said Tigatron. "We wait."

Dinobot re-holstered his gun and took the control for the loader drone out of his pocket. "I never wait when I don't have to. Perhaps they can be led off."

The antelope carcass had been torn, but was still intact enough for the drone to pick it up. It drove off slowly, deeper into the jungle, hyenas snapping at its treads. Tigatron nodded her approval. "Not a foolproof plan, but one with a reasonable chance of success. We aren't the right shape or scent - while we could be prey of opportunity, they may not think us worth chasing while they already have a meal."

Dinobot stopped the drone before it was lost from sight, had it drop the dead antelope, and started it back towards them. The hyenas were focused on the carcass and didn't bother to follow the machine.

Once the drone was under their tree, they climbed back down. "We should be gone before they finish," said Tigatron. "We know that we can still hunt effectively in these bodies. We will try again tomorrow, with a better plan."

She did, however, take his gun when he offered it to her.

 

* * *

 

It was a bad place for pods to land, Rattrap thought. Nothing but dry, cracked ground and twisted trees. Airazor had come down in an area livelier than this and nearly died for nothing to scan.

Rattrap landed the hoversled, then took a moment to remove his jacket and tie the arms around the hand bar of the vehicle. It might have been a light jacket, but the sun beat down too hot for it to be comfortable. _Pit, maybe Tigatron had the right idea. Why're we wearin' all this stuff in this heat?_

As if in answer, something small and winged landed on his arm and bit him. Rattrap squashed it and wiped the remains off on his trousers. _Okay, fine._

"I know this area well."

It was the first thing Inferno had said since they left the _Axalon_ nearly two megacycles ago. Rattrap glanced back at her. "Guess it's a good thing we got a truce, then, or you'd have picked these up on your next patrol." Inferno made a dismissive noise and went to prowl around the perimeter of the landing site.

The pods were open and it was obvious at a glance that they were unoccupied. Rattrap released the magnets that clamped his toolbox to the hoversled and took it over for a better look.

There was something wrong, and it took a few seconds to realise what it was. _There's too much debris around to have come off just two pods._

He found most of it a ways from the other two pods. From the way the debris had scattered, it looked like it had exploded after it had landed.

_And after scanning,_ Rattrap noticed. The largest recognisable piece was most of a forearm. The hand was brown, though the fingers and arm were a gray-blue. Most importantly, it was metal. Rattrap left it where it was. There was nothing he could do for it right now. He pocketed a few smaller pieces to take back to the _Axalon_ for preliminary scans.

He found the computer for the shattered pod near the other two, but it was too damaged to even try to salvage. He turned his attention to the other two pods. They were visibly damaged, but still basically intact. They had landed hard and were missing bits and were covered in electrical burns. Either the crash shorted out the electrical systems or, given this planet and the likely cause of the other pod's destruction, there was a large store of energon underground here. It was strange to know the stuff was nearby and not feel it. _Brought my hand tools, didn't bring a scanner. Blast it, I forgot that I can't rely on my own senses ..._

Rattrap climbed up on the closest pod to look inside. There was no trace of the protoform, which could mean it either solidified and walked away or died and dissipated. He set about retrieving the pods' memory chips. They'd be able to figure out what happened back at the _Axalon._

A while later, the light was blotted out and he turned to find Inferno standing over him. "There are tracks here," said the Predacon. "All around this area, then leading away. The protoforms are changed as we are."

"You sure? 'Cause I found a robot arm back there."

"I'm certain," said Inferno. "The tracks are of the same kind we make. There are two distinct sets. I believe they fought. And they want to be followed."

"How do you figure that?"

"They left a sign."

Rattrap stashed the bits he'd taken from the pods in his toolbox, then went to look for himself. The ground was dry and hard, but here and there was enough loose dirt to show footprints and not enough wind to blow them away. And, here, scratched into the hard ground, was an arrow. "All right, so we know where they went. What do you mean they were fighting?"

Inferno lead him to the dry scrub grasses on the other side of the pods. Rattrap prodded at the vegetation with his foot. "Y'know ... I think you're right. The plants are all crushed here like they were rolled on and the ground's all scuffed." Something caught his attention, and he bent down to retrieve a bit of gold-edged gray.

The Predacon frowned. "Feathers? Are those important?"

"They are if they're synthetic, which I'm pretty sure these are. Hm. Airazor had that little feathery cape when she first turned," said Rattrap. She had removed it after a couple of megacycles, explaining it tickled her arms and distracted her. "Maybe one of the neophytes has one."

He pocketed the feather and started back towards the hoversled. "How far does this wasteland go?"

Inferno squinted at the horizon. "Yesterday, not so far. Today ..."

'Not far' to a robot ant with rocket turbines was probably 'very far' to an organic. "At least there's no cover, so they'll be easy to spot. C'mon, firebug."

 

* * *

 

"... And it's, like, crazy-hot out there and there's _bugs_ and they _bite_ and I wish I still had my tail to swat 'em - isn't that weird? I used to swat flies because I could, but now that I _need_ to, I haven't got a tail. I guess that's why we've got clothes - to help keep the bugs off. But they're too hot. Maybe I could take the sleeves off, like Dinobot's shirt, except, if we suddenly change back, do you think I'd be missing armour?"

It took a moment for Optimus to realise he'd been asked a question. He'd been treating Cheetor's prattling like background noise. He wasn't bothered by it, he just wasn't expecting to be asked to participate. "I don't know. It's not really a part of our bodies. I don't think we'll just suddenly revert back, either."

"Well, you know. Just in case." Cheetor returned to organizing the plant samples he'd collected for Optimus. Most of them were already listed in the computer, and having Cheetor trying to match up what he had to existing files did save Optimus a little time, but, well, he wasn't very good at it. Cheetor didn't know where to start looking. But he wanted to escape the heat for a while and Optimus was glad of company, so it all worked out.

"Do you think -" started Cheetor, but was cut off by a pained scream from the next room. Automatically, Optimus and Cheetor ran to the xenobiology lab to see what was happening.

Blackarachnia was curled on the floor, arms up as if to protect her head - she had been the one who screamed. Tarantulas groaned once and tried to get up, but just managed to roll onto her side. The Predacons were connected to each other by the wires of their data transfer visors. Optimus knelt by Blackarachnia, decided that whatever had happened was over, and removed her visor. At his gesture, Cheetor did the same for Tarantulas.

Optimus lifted Blackarachnia into a sitting position so that her weight was resting against his right arm and leg. She slowly opened her eyes, then glared. Optimus looked back impassively, having grown to expect belligerence from Predacons when he tried to be nice to them. "Are you all right?"

"What do _you_ care?" Blackarachnia snapped. She tried to get up, then fell back against Optimus.

"What caused this?"

Blackarachnia kept to her sullen silence. There was a harsh chuckle somewhere above him, and Optimus looked up to find Tarantulas looking down from her perch on the table. "Blackarachnia had the idea that since our brains still run on electrical impulses that she might use the data transfer equipment to prod my thoughts and wake me up. _Isn't_ she _clever_?" Tarantulas purred.

Optimus frowned. "How do you know that?"

The scientist blinked at him in surprise. "During the process, I got a brief flash of Blackarachnia's thoughts. I don't think they helped particularly in explaining what's happened here. Teh-ha, I still don't know what I'm doing in this body and why I'm on the _Axalon_ but not in a holding cell."

Blackarachnia huffed quietly, then, using Optimus as a crutch, got back to her feet. Optimus stood as well, then waved back at the door. "Both of you could probably stand refuelling. Come with me."

Blackarachnia had eaten some hours earlier and went and helped herself from the diminishing stash in the loader drone. Optimus wasn't worried about that. He'd already identified several alternatives. He offered a fruit to Tarantulas, but she made a face. " _I_ am _not_ eating a _plant_."

"It's what we have right now."

Tarantulas took it with a sigh, and sat in one of the room's two chairs. "Are you sure you haven't any mice?"

"Catch your own if you want them." Despite being hunted for fun by Cheetor and eaten by Dinobot and Airazor, the local rodents hadn't learned to stay out of the _Axalon_. "You can't eat them whole, though - as far as I can tell, we can't digest hair."

"Too bad. The feel of a small animal struggling as its swallowed is one of life's little pleasures."

_If I show disgust, she wins._ He kept his expression neutral. "Scrabbling claws would probably damage your throat now."

"I should check in with Megatron," said Blackarachnia. "He'll want to know that Tarantulas is active." She left.

Tarantulas held up the fruit and regarded it glumly. "Well, don't make me keep guessing, Maximal - what's going on?"

 

* * *

 

He saw it first and pointed it out to the other - a bit of green in the endless brown. The other frowned. "There oughta be more of it."

"It still bears investigation." He scratched an arrow pointing towards the green and they went for a closer look.

There was green on the ground, soft under their feet, like and unlike the dry green back by the pods. There were a few of the structure-growths - still stunted and twisted, but these were covered with little green banners. _Trees,_ he thought, the connection between word and object only coming now with the green. In the middle of it all was a liquid that reflected the sky.

The other nodded. "We need that."

"I know. But ... how do we know?"

The other reached up, touched his forehead, and his fingers came back damp. "We've been leaking it, for one thing. Seems like logic to me."

There was a guttural snarl behind them, and they turned, startled. The creature limped towards them from a space between two trees - it might have been sleeping in the shade, awakened by their voices. It was thin and angular with worn patches in fur that might have once been a tawny brown. It was larger than him, and growled through a heavy mouth full of rotting teeth. But despite the wreck of its body, its dark gold eyes were clear and focused.

He dropped the metal shard and held out his empty hands. "We mean you no harm, friend. We only want some of your water, and then we will leave."

The creature snarled again, coming closer. The other stepped back in a type of half-crouch. "I don't think this is the kinda thing you can _talk_ to."

"Our intentions are peaceful."

"I don't think its are."

Two more steps, and the creature chose the smaller target, lunging at the other.

The creature was desperate, but it was also weak. The other managed to dodge - he rolled, caught up the metal shard, then swung it up hard and fast and tore a long wound down the creature's side. The other turned in anticipation of a second attack, but relaxed when he realised how much damage he'd done - the creature was trying to crawl away, breathing shallowly and spilling itself out through its torn flesh.

He himself looked down sadly. "It was just trying to protect its territory. There is no reason for it to suffer."

The other looked at him incredulously. "It attacked me."

"Give me the shard!"

The other shrugged and handed over the jagged bit of metal. He took it, knelt by the dying creature, and slashed its throat before he could find an excuse to stall. Then he turned away and retched, though there was nothing to expel.

When his dry heaves passed, the other took the metal shard from his unresisting fingers and helped pull him back to his feet.

They drank some of the water, splashed a bit on their faces because it felt good, and tried to clean the fluid of the creature off themselves as best they were able.

There was water and shade, and _we could stop here for a while. Perhaps ..._

He made the mistake of looking down and saw the stains on his sleeves. They had faded a bit with washing but wouldn't go away completely. He stood up and scowled at the horizon. "Let us go."

"What's got you in such an all-fired hurry? ... All right, all right, I'm comin' ..."

 


	3. Chapter 3

Tigatron wondered briefly how she and Dinobot were supposed to get back into the _Axalon_ with the lift retracted, but it lowered as they approached. Whoever was on monitor duty must have seen them coming.

It turned out to be Rhinox. The engineer swivelled his chair around to face them. "How'd it go?"

"Failure," said Dinobot.

"Partial success," said Tigatron.

Dinobot made a derisive noise and vanished into the bulk of the _Axalon_. They watched him go, then Rhinox asked, "Where'd you put the loader drone?"

"Just outside," said Tigatron. "It's rather a mess. We didn't think anyone would want it tracked through the ship." The tracker explained what had happened on her hunt with Dinobot, then, "Is Airazor around?"

"She's out for a walk," said Rhinox. "Got tired of being cooped up in here."

Tigatron smiled in acknowledgement, then left the control room to head for the showers. She chuckled to herself, _Given the state I'm in, perhaps it's for the best that I've got time to clean up before she sees me._

Dinobot wasn't there, which either meant he'd been extremely fast, or, given him, didn't bother. Tigatron turned on the water and let the spray wash over her, taking away the sweat and dirt and blood. Not much blood - the scratches from sharp-edged leaves and twigs weren't deep and weren't even leaking any more. Her struggle with the nyala had left her with scrapes, bruises, and a tear in her leg that didn't start bleeding again after she washed the dried blood out of it. There were some wounds on her feet that might need a bit of care, though. _I suppose clothing really is necessary to these forms. Boots certainly are!_

Still, she regarded the scratches and scrapes and insect bites and the soreness in her limbs with a smile. Dinobot may have hated his new body and the others would rather be metal even if they weren't complaining, but for Tigatron, it felt _right_. Becoming organic, becoming a part of the world she loved, was a dream come true. Not perfect, but close enough.

There was just one thing she was anxious about. _I haven't had a minute alone with Airazor since this began. We've both been busy on one task or another - important tasks and work that needed to be done, but ... I need to talk to her. She's always been attuned to this planet, seen it as home, and she seems to have taken the change fairly well ..._

She sighed. _I know what I feel. I do not doubt that she still loves me. But can she handle a relationship on these terms? We never had much of a physical relationship, true, but will the organic be just too strange for her? Has she even thought that far ahead yet or as she been too busy to really think about the change, consider the implications, and decide what she thinks of it?_

 

* * *

 

The other had stopped talking some time ago. He wasn't sure if he was glad about that. While it was nice to have a bit of silence so he could think, it meant that the other was wearing down as well.

He was tired. He was tired and the light pounded down on him too bright and too hot. His mouth was dry, his throat was dry, and he felt as if the dryness was trying to climb down inside of him and turn him as dry and cracked as the land. He still remembered to stop and scratch his arrows into the ground.

Sometimes he thought they should have stayed at the oasis. There was shade there, and water, _and the body of the creature I killed. To end its suffering, yes, but that tastes of excuse. I could not remain there._ The image of the creature still lurked in his mind, sickly and tattered and _it must have made a poor living out there. Why would it stay there if there was_ anywhere _better within its reach? This speaks ill for the chances of my companion and I._

Sometimes he thought about stopping, really stopping, not just pausing. A rest, yes, perhaps the next dead tree would have enough shade to grant a bit of relief from the light ... They could wait until it was dark to continue, perhaps there would be enough moonlight ... _And how do I know that darkness will come?_ They could wait until they were rescued ...

_And how do I know that rescue will come?_

And the other would not let him stop. In their short time together - his whole lifetime - he knew enough of the other to know that. The other would keep walking until he found his destination or his body fell out from underneath him. And then he would crawl.

The other was trailing a few paces behind him. He didn't need to turn around to check. He could hear the other's footsteps and his increasingly laboured breathing. There was also a faint hum and the sound of something like wind, but he didn't register it as part of his universe until he heard the other's noise of surprise. He turned and found a metal device pacing him, bearing two beings similar to himself and the other. The female was tall - taller than himself and much taller than her companion - and had some sort of device strapped to her back that he could recognise as a weapon. The male was short, brown as the wasteland, and grinning.

The male chuckled. "Well, that solves the mystery of the feathers."

The device came to a halt, so he and the other stopped and waited. The female stepped down almost reluctantly, but the male hopped down and beamed at them. "I know, I know, I'll try to explain the bodies on the way back to the _Axalon_. Bet you never thought it would be _this_ wild when you signed up. I'm Rattrap, and the monolith here is Inferno," he said. "Who're you?"

He and the other exchanged a glance before turning back to Rattrap. "Names?" he asked. "It ... never occurred to me that I could _name_ myself."

"... You mean you didn't _know_ your names when you woke up?" asked Rattrap.

"No. No, we ..." he started, then slowly collapsed.

"Primus. Inferno!"

Inferno got an arm under his shoulders and helped him back to his feet. "I ... I am sorry," he said, partly to Rattrap for the interruption, but mostly to Inferno. She was large and strong and it was logical that she was the one to help him, but he felt guilty about it. He didn't trust himself to stand on his own, and the realisation of dependence made the guilt-feeling worse. "We had been walking so long that it was the only thing keeping us going."

"Speak for yourself," boasted the other, who had gone to the device and was hanging onto its railing, pretending to inspect it.

"I swear this planet is tryin' to kill us," said Rattrap. "We gotta get you two back to the _Axalon_."

They didn't leave immediately. Food and water were taken from what he had thought was just a part of the device, but it turned out to be a crate attached to it. He wasn't very hungry but ate some of the plant because he was told to, and needed no encouragement to drink. The water was warm, but it tasted better than the water at the oasis had.

Once on the device - _loader sled,_ murmured his thoughts - Rattrap turned it about one-hundred-twenty degrees and built up speed until the ground blurred beneath them. Inferno had planted herself at the very back, against the railing, with himself and the other at either side. The size and curvature of the sled meant that Inferno could have her hands on the railing while having an arm around himself and the other to support them. He still felt guilty about this, and held onto the railing. The other settled himself more comfortably against Inferno and put an arm around her waist for support. _At least,_ he thought, _that had better be his reason._

The other suddenly drew in a breath and touched Inferno's wrist. "What happened to your hand, sugar?"

Inferno barely glanced over. The skin on the back of her right hand and fingers was blistered. It didn't seem too serious, but it looked painful. "Chemical burn."

"Don't it hurt?"

Inferno shrugged. The other sighed happily and settled back against her.

The light still beat down, but the speed created a breeze. After a few minutes, Rattrap spoke again without turning. "You were tellin' me you didn't have names."

"Yes, that is right. We have words and knowledge and concepts, but no identity." He frowned slightly as the static in his mind cleared long enough for one idea - _Name follows form and function_ \- before swirling away into confusion again. _But I do not know who I am or what I do._

Rattrap shook his head. "So I can't start from the middle and assume you know the beginning. All right - stasis pods. Those came off our ship - the _Axalon_. We've been lookin' for you 'cause you're part of our crew. Well, my crew. Inferno's not part of it."

"Thank the Royalty," muttered Inferno.

"Aw, don't be that way, sugar," said the other. "Whatever they done to you, I'm sure we can be friends."

"What _do_ we do?" he asked.

"We're exploration scientists," said Rattrap. "Hopefully we can figure out who you were supposed to be before you got your circuits scrambled. Unless you get your memories back, I hope neither of you was our lab biologist!"

"... Circuits?"

"Quickstrike," said the other suddenly. "If I get to choose my own name, I'm Quickstrike."

Rattrap nodded. "Fine. Quickstrike." He risked a glance back. "So what about you? You gonna think of one for yourself or do I gotta name you?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to look out at the horizon. If he didn't know who he was, at least he knew who he wanted to be. "Silverbolt. I will be Silverbolt."

"And Silverbolt. Gotcha," said Rattrap. "We found your pods before we found you. I knew they were damaged, but didn't realise how damaged until you two said you didn't have names. All right, I'll fill you in - you signed up for a long-range, long-term space exploration mission. We ended up chasing a Predacon ship through a transwarp hole and crash-landed on this planet. We'd settled into a life of exploring the planet, trying to re-establish contact with Cybertron, and not letting the Preds kill us. Then some super-powered aliens turned us into these squashy things for some reason, so we got a truce with the Preds until we can get our real bodies back. Got it?"

"No," said Silverbolt.

Rattrap sighed. "What part's stickin' for you?"

"I can understand all your words as words. I could break down the etymology of them for you," said Silverbolt. He shrugged helplessly, though Rattrap couldn't see it. "But they mean nothing to me."

"And why do you keep sayin' there's somethin' wrong with our bodies?" demanded Quickstrike.

"Oh, _Primus_ ..."

 

* * *

 

Annoyed at being pulled out of a perfectly nice dream where she had rotors again, she responded by jabbing her elbow into her partner's side. Terrorsaur draped an arm over his eyes and groaned. Waspinator rolled over and picked up his hand to peer at him. "Terror-bot was having a nightmare."

He swatted her away. "I know."

"Terror-bot got all mumbly and twitchy and woke Waspinator up," Waspinator accused. "So Waspinator had to wake terror-bot up."

"That's _why_ I asked you to stay with me. You know that!"

"This is fifth time it happened since morning! Waspinator getting fed up with being woken up all the time!"

Terrorsaur covered his eyes again. "Door's that way."

"Bah. If Waspinator leaves, terror-bot will be knocking on her door in a few megacycles because he had another nightmare and can't handle it." She took his other arm, extended it, and claimed it for a pillow. It wasn't much, but it was better than the metal berth. "Which one was it?"

"Variation of 'What Have You Done To Yourself?' Slaggit. I shouldn't have asked for a mirror. I just know that's what set that one off."

Waspinator wiggled a bit to get more comfortable. "Waspinator never understood how that one was a nightmare."

The air warrior extended the fingers of his free hand to flick her in the side of the head. "I probably couldn't explain it, anyway."

She waited a few minutes, then sat up. "Waspinator isn't tired. Waspinator is bored."

"I swear I'm going to push you off the berth," muttered Terrorsaur, but got up. "Fine. I don't like being in here, either."

They didn't see anyone until they reached the control room, and then it was only Cheetor. "Hey!" Cheetor got up, but made no move towards them. "Where are you two going?"

Terrorsaur sneered at him. "Are we prisoners?"

"No."

"Then we're going outside."

They didn't go far, staying in the shadow of the _Axalon_. The bloodstained loader drone sitting near the lift was a bit strange, but the Predacons were more interested in the sky. The sun had only begun to set, but the moons were already up. One moon, anyway. Waspinator wrinkled her nose at it. "Alien device must be invisible again."

"Maybe it blew itself up to create the energy wave," said Terrorsaur. "The other moon's all splotchy now."

They settled on either side of one of the _Axalon's_ landing legs, Waspinator on the side with the moon. _Seems familiar,_ she thought, squinting at it. _Waspinator has seen that pattern before. Waspinator just can't remember where!_

She was about to ask Terrorsaur if he recognised it when the lift went up and came down and Dinobot stepped out. He glanced over at them, then pretended they weren't there. Terrorsaur made a face at him, then set about ignoring him right back. For her part, Waspinator chose to watch Dinobot. Whatever he'd been doing all day, it left him scratched up and dirty. The Maximal walked out a ways, also looking up at the moon.

He tensed suddenly, and Waspinator thought he realised she'd been watching him, but he didn't turn. He stared at the moon for a moment longer, then turned and practically ran back into the _Axalon_.

_Is moon,_ thought Waspinator, looking at it again. _Why would moon worry lizard-bot? ..._ And then she realised where she'd seen the pattern on the moon before. _Waspinator knows that moon! Waspinator has seen pictures! Here is Earth! Is where Predacons were trying to go! Waspinator knows!_ She looked back at the lift. _And Dinobot knows._

Waspinator tucked her knees to her chest and shuddered. Terrorsaur glanced back at her. "Cold?"

"Er ... yes." It was cool enough out that the lie worked. "Waspinator will go back inside. Terror-bot doesn't have to."

Terrorsaur rolled his eyes and stayed where he was. Waspinator fled back inside, out of sight of the moon. Dinobot was in the control room, but didn't notice her. She ran back to her room, locked herself in, and sat on the berth with her hands at her temples, trying to think. _Is Earth! Is_ past _! Golden Disc not just map to a lot of energon, is record of the future! So much power ..._ She brought her hands down to hold in front of her face. _But_ useless _now! Is useless power if Predacons can't live long enough to ..._

She stopped. _Maybe Disc_ can _be used._

Waspinator considered going back out and asking Terrorsaur for help - he was good at plans, at least until they failed, but it was better than she ever did - and decided against it. There would be too much to explain and it was too possible that it wouldn't work, anyway.

Besides, the Golden Disc wouldn't do _him_ any good.

 

* * *

 

They were still in the wasteland when Rattrap looked at the setting sun, then slowed and veered off-course. Inferno was immediately looming over him. "Where do you think you're taking us?"

"I'm lookin' for a place to set up camp for the night," said Rattrap. "We have to stop. We won't be able to navigate after it gets dark."

"I know this territory," Inferno reminded him.

"Well enough to lead us through it blind?" asked Rattrap.

"The Royalty managed it."

"Megatron's gone the route more times than you, knows it from ground level, and was desperate enough to try," said Rattrap. "I don't see either of us bein' able to pull it off. We stop until daylight. The others'll be worried about us, but I'd rather show up a day late than get totally lost."

Inferno considered that. "The Nest is near here. We could likely reach it before dark."

"The what ... oh. We can't go inside. You saw what happened to Megatron and them."

"Not to stay," said Inferno. "To contact the _Axalon_."

"And _I_ meant we can't go inside even just for a minute. You ain't fireproof no more," Rattrap said.

Rattrap found a bit of ground about five metres diameter in the middle of some largish rocks. It wasn't sealed in, but it gave the feeling of security. He set the hoversled down just outside of it. "What kind of critters you get around here, firebug?" asked Rattrap, pulling his jacket back on.

"We don't, usually," said Inferno. "Most animals give the lava fields a wide berth."

They needed light and, if the rapidly dropping temperature was any indication, heat. Luckily, both were easy to acquire. The wasteland trees were dead and brittle, and branches were little trouble to break off. Once they had made a good pile of wood, Rattrap turned back to Inferno. "There. Think you can light that without settin' the rest of us on fire?"

Inferno unslung the cannon from her back and fiddled with the settings for a few minutes. Then she pointed it at the pile of wood and fired. There was no blast, just a beam that started the wood smouldering before a few small tongues of flame lapped at the sky.

Rattrap blinked. "That was less explodey than I expected."

"You _said_ to ..."

"Yeah, yeah, it's good."

She was messing with her gun again, setting the power back to attack levels. "Even though wildlife is scarce in this area, we should not assume there is none around. I will stand guard."

"Oh, no, no, no." Rattrap climbed up on one of the smaller boulders. "I ain't trustin' no Pred to watch my back. Besides, you're at least as done in as the rest of us. No way you can stay awake all night. I'll take first watch - I'll stay up for as long as I can, then wake up Quickstrike." The blond seemed to be in slightly better condition than Silverbolt.

"And yet _I_ am supposed to trust _Maximals_ ," rumbled Inferno, but sat down near the fire.

Quickstrike sat near her. "You can always trust _me_ , sugar."

The sun had set completely, and with only one moon, the night was darker than it had been. There was enough light to see shadows, but as Rattrap predicted it wasn't nearly enough to navigate safely. "You all might as well sleep. We got nothing to do for the next twelve megacycles."

"Is there any water left?" asked Silverbolt.

They finished off the supplies they had, since they knew they were less than two megacycles away from the _Axalon_. Afterwards, Silverbolt curled up and practically vanished into his feathered cape, Quickstrike stretched out and put his hands behind his head, and Inferno remained seated, refusing to let her guard down. Rattrap returned to his perch and stared out into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

Optimus went up to the control room, which was busier than he expected. Cheetor was on monitor duty, Rhinox was up to his elbows in wires as he fiddled with a console, and Dinobot was reading something on one of the smaller screens. Megatron was also there, sprawled in one of the chairs, doing nothing more threatening than keeping an eye on everyone. Dinobot would sometimes glance at him, but Megatron either didn't notice or was ignoring him.

Optimus frowned. "Aren't Rattrap and Inferno back yet?"

"Not yet, Big Bot," Cheetor reported. "I can't even find them with the scanner."

"It is plain what happened," said Dinobot, shutting off whatever he was working on and turning to look at Megatron. "Inferno turned on him."

Megatron glared back. "She did _not_."

"You sound so certain."

"I ordered her not to," said Megatron. "If she attacked the vermin, the only reason would have been self-defence."

"Rattrap wouldn't have attacked Inferno without good reason!" protested Cheetor.

"She's a Predacon," Megatron growled. "I'm sure that's reason enough."

"Knock it off, all of you!" yelled Optimus. "It's probably nothing worse than that night fell before they could get back. We can't see in the dark now. They would have to stop and wait for morning."

Dinobot made a derisive noise. "Unless they're blundering about blindly."

"Either way, we can't do anything about it until daylight," said Optimus. "If they're not back two megacycles after sunrise, we'll start looking for them."

"Why can't you contact them?" asked Megatron. "Is the energon interference high tonight?"

"No commlinks," said Rhinox.

Megatron rolled his eyes. "Sending people out without commlinks. Brilliant strategy."

Optimus glared at him. "Tell me when we had time to design new ones that don't function by integrating with our systems."

"Mm." Megatron pushed himself up with his arms and stood. "Then I will tell Scorponok and Blackarachnia that they have a project for tomorrow. They should be able to come up with something if you're all too _busy_." With that, he left the control room.

Cheetor sputtered. "That ungrateful ... Doesn't he realise we've been working to help the Predacons, too?"

"He knows." Dinobot got up. "I ... If I am not needed here, I'm returning to my quarters."

"You can turn in too, if you want," said Optimus to Cheetor. "I can't sleep. I might as well be up here." Cheetor grinned, tossed off a vague salute, and left.

Rhinox had disentangled himself from the open panel and moved to another workstation. He tapped at a few keys. "I thought about trying to pick up the energy signature of the hoversled, but no go. It could be out of range or inactive."

"The stasis pod tracking beacon signals we picked up were the ordinary kind," said Optimus. "I'm just worried. Every pod we recover brings us one more closer to ..."

"Ordinary beacons mean ordinary pods," said Rhinox firmly. "Anything that's out there, if Rattrap can't outwit it or avoid it, Inferno can beat the slag out of it."

"I hope you're right."

 

* * *

 

"Cold, sugar?"

"I am fine."

Rattrap hopped down from his perch on the rock and walked around the fire. "Thought I told both of you to go to sleep."

Inferno was sitting near the fire with her arms wrapped around her knees and her hand-cannon by her side. He thought she'd be on guard even though he said he didn't want her to, but instead she was hypnotised by the flames. "I do not shut down until the Royalty commands it."

Quickstrike was near her, lying on his side, propped up on one elbow. He glanced up at Rattrap. "Can't. S'like my thoughts are all twitchy. I can lie down but I can't go under, you know? 'Sides, how am I supposed to sleep knowing 'Ferny's cold?"

"I think I know my physical status better than you do," said Inferno. "Why do you insist that I'm cold?"

The blond pushed himself up and scooted over beside Inferno. "Well, for one thing, I got long sleeves and this drapey thing and _I'm_ chilly. But mostly it's your skin, sugar. On the side away from the fire. S'gone all bumpy. Means it's cold."

Rattrap blinked at him. "What?"

"Callin' me a liar?"

"I am _fine_ ," Inferno repeated.

There was a quiet rustle as Silverbolt propped himself up and yawned. "Is something happening?"

"Aw, 'Ferny's cold and she's got too much pride to admit it," said Quickstrike, shifting a bit to get closer to but not quite touch Inferno. "Whereas I don't. So what I'm thinkin' is maybe we can cuddle up and share body heat and solve both our problems."

Silverbolt's mouth dropped open. "That would be most improper. What about her honour?"

"Hang it," said Quickstrike. "How's letting the poor girl freeze _honourable_?"

"It doesn't matter. She hasn't got any," grumbled Rattrap.

Silverbolt shot him a look somewhere between wounded and horrified. "I cannot _believe_ you could say such things about a lady! Here, I can give her my cloak ..."

"I _said_ ," rumbled Inferno, "that I am _fine_."

Her hand was inching its way towards her gun, maybe without her even knowing it. Inferno was the type of person who would respond to confusion, stress, or annoyance by shooting. Rattrap turned on the other two Maximals. "Back off, both of you."

"But ..."

"In case you two ain't noticed, you're fussin' over a Predacon warrior who could break you both in half without strainin' a piston - and I'm pretty sure she's considerin' it. If she says she doesn't need help, _she doesn't_."

The two new Maximals protested a bit but subsided, returning to their places around the fire. Inferno caught his gaze and nodded curtly, then resumed staring at the fire.

The nod hadn't been thanks, just acknowledgement, though whether it was Predacon ingratitude or recognising that Rattrap hadn't helped her out of kindness, he didn't know. _Just tryin' to keep you from performing a truce violation, Pred. You wanna freeze, be my guest._

 

_To be continued ..._

 


End file.
